


the crash will be incredible to see.

by onlyeli



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, Coming Out, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Dirk Strider, Internal Monologue, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Obviously., POV Dirk Strider, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, i hate andrew hussie, i love dirk strider, kind of, kind of again. idk man please just read it and trust me, why isnt I Hate Andrew Hussie an acceptable tag on this site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeli/pseuds/onlyeli
Summary: You write it down, in shaky orange script, like this:Hypothesis: I like boys.Reasoning: Where to begin.Conclusion:This is the part you leave blank.
Relationships: Jake English/Dirk Strider
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	the crash will be incredible to see.

**Author's Note:**

> please help me, i cannot stop writing about dirk strider.

Your name is Dirk Strider. You are thirteen years old. 

You are starting to suspect you like boys. 

You think this and that is a fact. It is objective and it is true. Recently, you are starting to feel uncertain about most things, but the idea that you could possibly like boys instead of girls sounds like a theory you could prove. It sounds like something that could be solid. 

You write it down, in shaky orange script, like this:

_Hypothesis: I like boys._

_Reasoning: Where to begin._

_Conclusion:_

This is the part you leave blank. 

Something tells you that it doesn't matter. You live on a dead planet with one other person, and you think (suppose, conclude) that she wouldn't care as much as you worry (determine, dread) she would. You know there are two other people to tell. 

Anomalous results are cut from the test data to preserve the integrity of the findings. 

The words hold more weight for them. You've read all about it, losing sleep over old webpages and discussion boards. You know everything there is to know about being a man in love with men in a time that does not mean anything to you. 

You have read about your brother. You know he loved men just as much as he loved women. You know how unkind people can be, even in the face of real heroism. 

You know when to keep your mouth shut. 

-

Your name is Dirk Strider. You are fourteen years old. 

Your best friend in the world is in love with you. 

You do not need to write this down. She does it for you, in mangled pink letters that traipse across the screen and burrow holes in your brain. You like to think she's in love with most things; the sun on the water, the paws of her cats, the gin in her glass. 

You know that this is not true. 

You are a well-read and worldly-wise young man. You grew up all by yourself in a world that does not want you and you seem to know more than the friends that did not. You know that when she says she wishes you weren't apart she means it in a way that you don't. 

For her sake, you feign ignorance. For her sake, you let her talk to the AR. 

The AR knows that your best friend is lonely. The AR knows he can give her something you won't (don’t, can’t). The AR knows that you, in your failure, are letting her down. He hates you for it. He hates you for many things, but he loathes you deeply for this. 

She deserves better than a boy that can't smile for her. She deserves better than a boy that flinches when she is sweet. She deserves better than a boy who builds robots and lets them love her because he cannot. 

Your chat client buzzes with life while you sit and write a list of things you like about her. It looks like this:

_Her eyes.  
Her laugh.  
Her sense of adv_

You realise you are not writing about her at all. You put your pen down and let your AR know you are headed to the roof. 

The AR tells you that you are a coward. You know he is right.

-

Your name is Dirk Strider. You are fifteen years old. 

You have not talked to any of your friends in two weeks. 

The roof is a comforting place. It is not quiet, and it is not secluded, but it is peaceful. The seagulls land by the side of your head and peer down into your eyes, curious and confused. You have not fed them in days. You have not fed yourself in days. 

Instead of moving, you think, and let the heat hum into your skin like it is keeping a secret. You have long since stopped wondering if you like boys and long since stopped pretending that your best friend doesn't make your throat itch. People are complicated. They want so much from you. The sky asks for nothing. The sea asks for less. 

You have almost forgotten the dark, dense smell of Derse. You have not been sleeping. 

The AR answers your messages. He is alone in your room. 

You do not know if anyone has noticed. You do not know if anyone cares. 

What do you know, and what do you think you know?

There is a code in your head and it is broken. 

_input=positive:action=unknown; input=negative:action=unknown.  
Jane=inlove:Jake;  
Roxy=inlove:Dirk;  
Jake=inlove:_

This is the part you leave blank. 

It is so much easier to pick at an empty thing and know it is empty. When you take to the spool of wire in your brain you are hurt, time and time again. You know so many things and yet nothing you have ever learned will help you feel less lost. The conclusion you came to years ago has done nothing but fester. It is a fault (a missing cog, a maimed gear) that you cannot take a hammer to. 

They are counting on you and you are failing them. They need you, and you are gone. You are hiding behind your machines because their warmth is not intrusive and their love is custom built. You are determined to control but there is no end in sight. You have flirted with heat and ruin your entire life but balk when facing it head-on. 

You know you can't avoid them forever. You know that you must tell your best friend that you have let her down. You must tell your best friend that you love him and that you are scared. 

You press your back further against the concrete. The stone is uncomfortable beneath your shoulderblades and the sun rakes across your nose with a ferociousness that you will wear for days. You breathe out and think of things you know. 

You know that feeling leads to falling apart. You know that removing parts of yourself only makes them ache on their own. You know that you have a role to play that is larger than yourself. You know that if any of your friends ever really knew you, they would hate you, too. 

You know how to pretend. You are very good at pretending.

Your robots tell you to go inside. They see your red skin and your red eyes and know that something has gone wrong. You do not tell them what. You don't think you can (could, will).

You are Dirk Strider. You are fifteen years old. 

You like boys. Your best friend loves you and you have wronged her. You do not speak to your friends for another week.

**Author's Note:**

> i know nothing about code, can you tell. anyway dirk is gay and has the WORST relationship w that fact thank you goodnight


End file.
